


An Understanding of Jeremy Blaire

by HeeeeresJohnny



Category: Outlast, Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeeeeresJohnny/pseuds/HeeeeresJohnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'That was what all that mattered to Jeremy Blaire, the very core, the very heart of a person. Their true nature. If they could simply think ‘fuck it’, and ‘screw everyone else’ in their scramble to the top, and do anything to become great. Because that’s how Jeremy was.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Understanding of Jeremy Blaire

**Author's Note:**

> Another fairly old piece - I had this in my head for a while, so I decided to write it. I've always liked Jeremy's character because he's such an ass, and so I wanted to play around with that a bit. It's probably got a lot of things that don't make sense in regards to him and the story, but I hope I managed to get out my perception on him alright.

Contrary to what would probably be expected, Jeremy Blaire didn’t hate women. He wasn’t a misogynist, a racist, a homophobe, anything like that, because he really couldn’t care less about the way a person was presented to the world. That was one of his very few redeeming qualities.  
He knew it was deeper than that. The only way you could aptly judge a person, according to Jeremy, was how they thought. The way they acted. What they did, and whether they could do whatever it takes to get what they want. That was what all that mattered to Jeremy Blaire, the very core, the very heart of a person. Their true nature. If they could simply think ‘fuck it’, and ‘screw everyone else’ in their scramble to the top, and do anything to become great. Because that’s how Jeremy was. And he found it interesting meeting people who were like that, like him.  
No, people who looked at a person and sorted them automatically into a category based on outwards appearance just didn’t get it. Assuming meant losing half the battle already. They were unprepared, too caught up in the ways of how it should be and how it’s always been, and so they were… lesser. Beneath him, and those like him, those that took power when it presented itself, and that realised that things didn’t always have to go how it should go, or how it always went.

There were many more ways to judge a person. Much more reliable. Jeremy like to think himself an expert judge of character. He’d certainly had much practice, as he watched the countless waves of new recruits under a scrutinizing eye. He could almost instantly tell which would make it, and which wouldn’t. But that boarded too closely on a judge of appearance, and so he was adamant to insure he carefully examined each and every individual until he knew what he was working with.  
First, there were those who ‘couldn’t’. They weren’t found within the Murkoff Corporation, as Blaire put in careful formalities to ensure that only those who could be trusted were accepted into the corporation. But he encountered them every day. They were the ones with unshakable ethics, who couldn’t imagine the injustices of the world, and once faced with them, stumbled, hit the ground and couldn’t get up. The ‘do-gooders’. The lowest of the low, the ones that wouldn’t achieve anything of importance in the world. They were disappointing.

Then there were those who ‘could’. They weren’t like Jeremy Blaire. No, not many people were. But they were close. Similar. They knew it was just a job. They did it without hesitation, because they needed the money. They acted how was expected of them, snarling out orders with cruel precision, treating their charges with less human decency than what one would be expect towards a dog. But when they left, their eyes were haunted with their actions, and he knew their regret as easily as if it were his own. If he were familiar with the emotion. They’d go home to their families, and try to act like nothing had changed. But something had, and they wouldn’t sleep that night, or the next. They would wonder if they would ever sleep again, but still they continued their actions because they had to. They knew they had to, if they wanted to keep their job, if they wanted to survive. In truth they were cowards, because they simply ran away from what they were, and what they could become.

The saddest cases were of the ones with potential. Potential to be great. Jeremy knew that they were like him, somewhere. If only they could realise it like he could. He watched them drop away like flies, shaking his head and thinking, ‘They just couldn’t handle it.’ They’d walk through the doors, eyes already shining with excitement, youthful grins as they shook his hand tightly, babbling about promises that he hadn’t made a mistake. They seemed innocent enough, but behind that bright-eyed enthusiasm was a dark gleam, one that Jeremy was closely acquainted with. Greed. A need for something more. But they fought against that greed, and Jeremy watched from the sidelines with increasing frustration as yet another promising young person gave into their morals. The chains that held them down from true success. Blaire didn’t understand. But that’s because they weren’t like him. Closer, but not quite.

In very special scenarios, Jeremy had the pleasure of meeting someone of equal or, god forbid, exceeding worth than even he. Twice to be exact. In his fleeting meeting with Helen Grant, she had recognised that special something in Jeremy Blaire, or rather, he made her notice, as Jeremy liked to believe. Either way, they had both realised that herself and Jeremy were one of the same, and so he graciously treated her as an equal. Trager also caught Blaire’s eye, and soon he found himself taking a liking to the eccentric old executive-turned-biologist, a description loosely used based upon the fact that any kind of medical qualification the man had was given to himself _by_ himself. But those were the sorts of details that could be overlooked at Murkoff. Even so, Richard Trager was a gritty realist of a man, with a witty outlook on life, and a never ending supply of dark, clever cracks towards even the most somber of topics. These were the kinds of people that Jeremy Blaire appreciated, and understood.

But there was one person who Mr. Blaire couldn’t understand, and couldn't quite place. He didn’t know whether Waylon Park was a ‘could’, or a ‘couldn’t’. Or even if he was one of those special, sad cases of lost potential. Because Park seemed so damn ignorant. Naive, even, despite the up close and personal nature of his job, and the fact that he saw every action Murkoff took. It was as though he just didn’t understand, or rather, couldn’t understand.  
Of course he had signed the contract. Every employee had, from the executives to even the insignificant yet unfortunately necessitate janitorial staff, a formal agreement of silence as to the happenings of the Murkoff Corporation carried out at Mount Massive Asylum. Jeremy Blaire first-handedly observed Park’s signing, due to being the programmers supervisor, and he cleared up any misgivings with smooth words and barely concealed threats. Waylon Park was nervous when he first began, Jeremy could tell. But he could also tell that he needed it. Jeremy knew he needed it, in order to ensure that his young family could continue living a somewhat comfortable life. And so Jeremy could do what he wanted with him, because he wouldn’t quit. Park needed this too badly. At this stage, Jeremy thought he was just another poor soul now claimed by the destructive force that was Murkoff Corp.

But he surprised Jeremy. Or perhaps outraged him. Jeremy couldn’t figure out how he felt about the quiet, soft-spoken man, and that infuriated him. He watched him closely during his time at Murkoff. Park was shocked by the horrific happenings that were carried out under Murkoff’s orders, but his reactions were subtle, as he tried to stay under the radar. Kept his head down and do the job. That was something Blaire liked about Park. About the only thing he liked about him.  
Over time, he could see the tell-tale signs that Park was breaking. He had seen it numerous times by those too weak to realise that this brutality was necessary in order to achieve the glittering riches that drove Blaire himself forward. He assumed that Park would leave, unable to stand the corruption of the facility. He assumed him a ‘couldn’t’.  
Until he saw the email.  
Until Park spoke out.

That changed everything. He was something else, something that Blaire had never come across. He almost respected Park’s brave, but stupid decision in defying Murkoff, something that no one had ever done. Blaire realised that Park didn’t belong to one of the carefully constructed and relied upon molds that he sorted each individual into. He wasn’t a ‘could’, a ‘couldn’t’, or a wasted potential. He was neither of these, yet all of them together at the same time. But there were three thing that Jeremy Blaire knew about Waylon Park. He was his enemy. He hated him. And he needed to stop him. Permanently.


End file.
